Thoughts behind the Scenes
by James-Padfoot
Summary: This is the story of how Captain Hook becomes Killian Jones, and how it started the day he met one Emma Swan. This series intends to focus on the thoughts behind the words and actions of the characters, with (current-day)!Killian and Emma in mind. This will be following the canon storyline closely and will run the gamut from 2x05 to 3x11.
1. The Doctor

**This is intended to be a series of how Captain Hook becomes Killian Jones. (Bi)weekly updates until March, which span from 2x05 to 3x11. **_Also, I will endeavor to copy as little as the actual lines from the show, in hoping that all of you know it well enough without me needing to add it in. This series intends to focus on the thoughts behind the words and actions of the characters, with presentday!Killian and Emma in mind. _This will be strictly canon.

* * *

**The Doctor (2x05)**

He felt the rough bark digging into his back uncomfortably, and tried to control his simmering anger. He had waited 6 bloody hours under the slowly rotting corpses, only to have his bluff ruined not even 20 minutes after he had been pulled out from the wreckage. It was driving him mad that the supposed savior had read him so easily. He wondered if she'd like his hook buried in her neck as retribution.

And now she was speaking again, after the Princess squad (and fuck if he was ever going to live down being apprehended and tied to a tree by Snow White and her daughter while Mulan helped and Princess Aurora, whose grudging trust he'd worked so hard to gain, watched in stony silence).

"One last chance," the blonde woman said, and Hook stamped down the urge run his sword through her annoying face and her 'secret' at being able to tell when someone was lying to her, as if she intended to seduce his secrets out by her close proximity. Damn her to the seven hells, he thought viciously, channeling the anger into earnest desperation as best as he could.

"I already told you, I'm just a blacksmith," he said.

It wasn't until he heard the rumbling roars from the distance after she whistled and threatened his existence that he realized that this woman was no mere princess; she was going to make good on her promise, the lingering anger of being thoroughly sick with Cora's genocide was clearly making her ruthless enough to leave him here to die.

Real panic bubbled up within him at that, his hands trying but failing to break loose because Mulan had wrapped the rope like coil; numerous times and tight around the tree. He stamped down the panic, because even if the blonde _witch _was going to leave him to die, he knew that Aurora would at the very least protest to such barbarism.

"You can't just leave me here like this," he called out, watching them walk away, making sure to catch Aurora's eyes. True to form, she stopped to question his authenticity, but the blonde woman was leading the pack and she called him out on it. Again.

The roar was louder this time, and shoving the panic far away, he gave in to the anger that seemed to always simmer on the surface of his skin.

"Good for you," he said, glaring at the ground, tightening his fist in annoyance "you bested me." He raised his gaze to see the blonde had stopped, could only imagine the smirk of self -satisfaction on her vexatious face. She did not find his pun funny, and walked up to him, demanding his identity. He considered replying with a scathing remark on how she could find out when he buried his hook into her throat, but felt the desire to reveal himself, truly, because she was worthy of it, somehow. Had seen right through him without much effort, and as considerably aggravating as it was, it was also indubitably impressive.

With a sigh, he answered, "Killian Jones." It had been a long time since he'd call himself that, a long time since he'd even referred to himself as Killian in his head, and at least three centuries since anyone else had, either.

"But most people have taken to call me by my more colorful moniker; Hook."

He saw the flash of recognition on Snow's face as she repeated his name, and wondered if Regina had told her, all those years ago. He dared her to check his satchel, but his attention was drawn back to the blonde, who was looking at him with both disbelief and recognition.

"As in _Captain_ Hook?"

"Ah, so you've heard of me," he said smugly, a feeling of pride surging through him despite the fact that he was _still tied to a fucking tree with ogres sniffing their location on the way. _

He ground his teeth together, eyeing the blonde and considering his options. There weren't many, and she seemed to realize they were running out of time, telling him so. _As if he didn't know_, gods above, he never hit a woman (unless absolutely necessary, it was bad form, and it was a lesson of his mother's he couldn't bear to part with) but he was so tempted for the third, maybe fourth time, to hit her on the head with the back of his hook.

On other hand…

He went for honesty. If anything, he figured it would appeal to the goody-goody types Cora was so often _bitching about _(there really wasn't a more appropriate term for some of her rants) that made them all the easier to manipulate. Which was precisely why he felt the panic he'd so suavely shut down before bubble up in spades when blondie and Mulan _still _walked away from him. His panic wasn't faked when he cried out "WAIT!"

It was in that moment that he made a choice. It didn't really matter who got him to Storybrooke, as long as he got there, and if push came to shove, he could always claim he was being a double agent for whichever side got there first. And all things else, the Princess brigade was a hell of a lot better to look at than Cora's perpetually snotty face and her sickly aura of dark magic that made Hook's skin crawl in the most unflattering way possible. It vexed him, though he couldn't help be a tad impressed with blondie, because her blade was once again pointed at his neck, and he wanted to scream at her that they had no time before the ogres found them.

"You tell me one thing, and whatever you say, I better believe it," she said, looking as if he didn't, she was prepared to run the hell out of there and leave him to die. "Why does Captain Hook want to go to Storybrooke?"

So he told her the truth, summoning with ease the burning desire for revenge that had fueled him and kept him sane in the insanity that had been Neverland. "To exact revenge on the man that took my hand. Rumplestiltskin."

The roars were getting closer, and the blonde woman swung her dagger high, and he glared because what more of the truth did she want, but when she brought down the blade, it hit the rope he was bound to. She gave him a look, one that promised retribution if he made her regret her decision, and turned to Mulan. "Untie him, quick!"

Hook waited, stock still as to preserve his dignity as the two woman untied the rope, finding it easier than hacking through its thickness. Snow White was murmuring low to them to hasten their pace, and he could see the top of the ogre's head peeking out not 200 yards from the tree line, and he reminded himself that he had been in far, far much worse situations than this one in the last 300 years.

When he felt the bonds loosen, he wasted no time to step out of them as the blonde, Emma, (because Snow had used her name freely now and he committed it to memory so he could curse her properly) let out a strangled yell for them to "Run!"

He tried not to feel too offended that Mulan's sword was pointed at his back when they cleared the danger and trekked through the forest, or that they'd kept his hands bound together. He had expected the distrust given how Emma and Snow kept looking at him with open distaste, but it still rankled that not even the supposed '_princesses of purity, goodness, noble birth and exploitable trust'_ (Cora's words, in one of her colorful rants) could not afford him a smidgeon of trust or goodwill. Which was why he felt the smug satisfaction of lording information over them as they came in view of the beanstalk, and then, as Emma moved past him and climbed over a fallen log, legs extending almost languidly in her tight trousers, promptly decided that these four would make far, far better mutual alliances than enemies.

He only had one cuff, and he hoped as hell it would be her he'd climb with.


	2. Tallahassee

_A/N: While following the canon timeline and story closely, I have studied the scenes and characters to fill in the off screen bits as accurately as possible, while telling a story. Enjoy! _

**Once Upon A Time, Tallahassee (2x06)**

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When they finally made it to the base of the beanstalk, Emma made a comment somewhere behind him about how it looked 'freakier than in the stories', though he'd be damned if he knew what that meant. Mulan seemed to think it was more like death, and Snow thought that was encouraging, and Hook wanted to roll his eyes and rapt them all smartly on the head, but instead he said, "Well, the compass awaits."

It appeared Emma was completely mystified by the finer points of the workings of the realm, and Hook tried to correct her notions, re-telling the tale that he had been told, stories that had passed down, remembering how he'd thought it had been extremely bad form of the giants to destroy the magic selfishly, and he told them so. But Hook also knew he had to sell the story, to get them to trust him, which appeared to be severely lacking when Mulan questioned him bluntly. Hook could see it was Emma however, that needed convincing. Despite the fact that Snow White was technically _queen, _it appeared Emma was the one laying down the law of their quest and so he told her, told them, the truth. At least they had him at face value, that'd he take the first ship back to Storybrooke regardless who was captaining the adventure.

Snow White did not seem at all impressed with him, and even Hook knew of her True Love Story (another thing Cora would not quit chattering about) thus found it enjoyable to rankle them all, encouraging any kind of catfight possible. He watched them a ways away, studying the dynamics of the group. That was, after all, the point of instigating them, and he was smart enough to know that such knowledge might come in useful later, especially if he was forced with Cora once more.

As he adjusted his hands and ruffled his sleeves, he heard Emma tell Snow earnestly that she didn't care what she had to face as long as she got back to Henry. That, at least, was an easy nut to crack. A desperate mother yearning to be reunited with her child despite the hard veneer she projected to the world. She was ruthless too, and appeared to have her mother wrapped around her finger despite the uneasy relationship that was ever so obvious. Now if he could wrap _her _around his fingers…

Mulan's words reached him, _gods_, why were they so untrusting, and he let out an indignant "Hey!" because honestly, they were supposed to be the nice ones! He watched as Emma whispered with Mulan, and reminded them of the time. As Emma stalked over to him, Hook couldn't help but grin at her, surprising even himself with his sincerity because of the four, she was the one he felt the most drawn to. "I was hoping it'd be you," he said, taking a hold of her hand. She didn't appear to be at all amused with him, and that only made him grin more. Oh this would be so very fun.

_Fun,_ gods, what a fool he'd been. He'd been bested by Swan so thoroughly that he wasn't sure if he should laugh in misery or revert to anger. The worst part was, he was angry _at himself. _All the way up the beanstalk, he'd attempted to engage her in conversation, but she had ignored him or shut him down until he'd called her out on it. He had intended to unnerve her, but instead, had found himself empathizing with her. '_An orphan's an orphan_,' he'd said, and gods how true was that? But worse, the worse thing that had made him retreat for a time, was the fact that _she had lied _about never being in love. Killian, the part of him that Milah had fallen in love with, loved Milah with every beat of his heart, remembering her laugh and her smile, could never deny her existence. Hook had spent several lifetimes trying to avenge her and could only remember the light as it died out of her eyes, and sometimes he thought himself as two separate entities beating for one lost heart, and it was especially so in times like this. The ruthless fearsome captain understood her need to lie, because whatever the story behind that lie was a story of severe heartbreak that did not need revisitation, and yet a part of him could never fathom denying having been in love, could never fathom denying how he had loved Milah with every fiber of his existence despite the pain and agony that was now constant because **she had been worth it**.

He thought he would be able to get under Swan's skin, he had thought this whole excursion could have been reduced to simple business even as he felt more and more drawn to her, there was just something about her...

He sat there, on the uncomfortable floor, counting down the second hour of his imprisonment (having spent the first raging and recovering from the splitting headache of the fall). He grimaced at what a fool he had been. He should have heeded the warning bells when he had met her, should have realized that pull and amusement he had felt for Emma (_Swan_, he reminded himself angrily) especially when she'd completely derailed his plans of subterfuge was signs of trouble. Instead, he had _admired _her gumption. Had been drawn to her. Had thought he'd _connected _with her. Good lord above, he was such a fool.

Hook brought his shackled hand to his head, rubbing the bridge of his nose. What the bloody hell did she mean by '_I can't take a chance that I'm wrong about you'_? And yet, he knew. He knew, even if he didn't quite have the full story, what she meant. They had worked so well as a team, that even though Swan didn't actually trust him, at least not as far as she could've tossed him, that there was an undeniable sense of attraction, the way he'd pulled her body into hers, and Hook knew that scared her. He knew he was attractive, hell, he frequently used his charm as a weapon, but more than that, it was the fact that Swan worked seamlessly with him, able to anticipate each other's movements in a way that had been far too rare for him to dismiss. Far too special to ignore.

They would have made easy work of this whole thing and could've been on the way to Storybrooke by now, but she couldn't take a chance? With him? When he'd been, for the first time in a long time, completely honest with her? When he'd been truly contemplating disengaging his deal with Cora and fighting side by side with Emma, on Team Princess?

By the third hour, he'd analyzed every angle of his interaction with her and the princess brigade that a plan began to form. Screw Emma Swan. He didn't need her, and he would damned well make her regret leaving him here. He swore it.

It was somewhere in the midst of the fourth hour that the giant made his presence. Hook glared defiantly, but instead of crushing him or ripping him from limb to limb, the giant set down some fruit and water, portions almost as big as he was. Hook's glare turned to a gape.

"What-?" he began, but the giant sat down heavily, making his teeth rattle as the tremors vibrated across the floor.

"I thought you might be hungry."

"Thank you," he said automatically, manners taking precedence.

The giant looked pleased, and opened his mouth to speak (entirely too loudly for Hook's tastes), "My name is Anton. Please don't be mad at Emma."

"She locked me up here!" he said, unable to temper the anger.

"She gave me a friend to talk to," Anton said, looking hurt.

Hook shut his mouth, surprised. He was beginning to cotton on really quickly that much like he'd told Emma at the base of the beanstalk, it seemed that the stories told were not all they seem. This giant was less fearsome than he was lonely, and a plot began to form.

"I'm sorry Anton, my name is… Killian Jones." Somehow, introducing himself as Captain Hook did not seem right for the occasion.

"Killian," Anton said, testing the name on his tongue.

"Yes. Thank you for the food. Would you like to share it?"

Anton looked surprised, and he smiled tentatively. "That's alright, I've eaten. You go ahead."

Hook broke off a piece of the fruit, it was native to the Enchanted Forest and was soft as cheese, with a buttery taste that filled up his belly fast. He awkwardly maneuvered the shackles to cup the water between his fingers for a sip, and made a show of troubling himself to do it. When he caught Anton's eyes, the giant looked appropriately remorseful.

"I don't suppose you could remove these?" he asked politely, shrugging his shoulders.

Anton bit his lip, looking rather like a giant wounded puppy, and blinked. "Emma said to wait 10 hours," he said, looking out and up somewhere, before saying, "there's just another 6 more to go. I'm really sorry."

"Please?"

Anton looked deeply troubled, but shook his head, looking at the door as if Emma would burst back into the room and, well who knew what she had done to get Anton to promise this in the first place.

"Emma can't hurt you anymore, Anton, she—"

But Anton's eyes focused on him with precision, his mouth thinning and Hook recognized that he'd misspoke. "Emma didn't hurt me! She could never!" Anton said, with such conviction that Hook realized she'd somehow secured his loyalty without using violence or trickery. Huh.

"I promise I'll stay if you take them off," he said, the words leaving his mouth before he made sense of them.

Anton looked at him, and for the first time, appeared to be seriously contemplating him.

"How do I know I can trust you to stay?" the giant asked, and Hook wondered why it was trust seemed to be the major word of the day.

"Because I swear it on my honour," he said, knowing as he said that, that he had committed to stay for another 6 hours, and wasn't that just the most stupidest thing, gods, if Cora found him here like this, she'd rip his heart out herself.

He didn't know if Anton knew he was a pirate, and didn't know if Anton understood how exactly pirates operated (which was largely rumored to be _without_ honor) but as the shackles dropped from his hand, he looked up at the giant and said, "So, what shall we do for the next six hours?"

By hour six, they'd played two rounds of _catur, _a long game that involved kings, queens and rooks and knights that had to move across a checkered board in a battle of wits and strategy (he had won the first, and Anton the second, and gamely called it a tie), and was now needling out the giant's backstory. As it turned out, there really was more to the tale than it seemed. But the most important bit of the story was how a single sapling had survived and there was another bean, dead though it was. That had piqued his interest almost immediately, and he artfully uncovered all he could on it until Anton could speak no more on the matter. Then, in order to fluster the giant, he turned a knowing look to Anton.

"So, you fancy Emma, eh?"

It would have been comical, truly, to see the colour flood the giant's face, but he kept his face a mask of polite teasing.

"N-no. I just, she's nice? I mean, she didn't kill me when she could've. And she's trying to get back to save her son. Nothing nobler than that."

Hook bit his tongue to point out that leaving him behind hadn't been the least bit noble, and said instead, "Doesn't mean you don't fancy her."

"I'm a giant," Anton said morosely, and Hook tried to see how this could be played to his advantage, but could not, so he dropped the matter.

"There, there," he said, placing his hand on the giant, not that he thought it would make a difference. Instead, the giant looked at him, and Anton said, "Thank you."

"I was just lonely," Anton said, as if attempting to explain the conversation away, and Hook wanted to tell him that lonely or no, Emma was certainly worthy of man's fancy, but decided against it. Because he was concentrating on _not concentrating_ on the tingle of hope he'd felt when she'd placed her hands in his, palms and fingers locking into a perfect grid, and then had dashed it all to smithereens by clasping the ugly shackle on it. He was _not concentrating _on the ugly feeling of betrayal that curled in his insides, swirling with the long simmering ashes of revenge, and despite the fact that his _need _for revenge was greater, that the betrayal hurt more. Gods, he was going to make her pay.

"You're not right now," he said, and he meant it sincerely too but gods, he was tired. It was time to end this charade.

"Anton, do you trust me?" and he hated himself for using that word falsely for his means, so soon after he had been honest. T'was a pity that honesty had gotten him nowhere. Goddamn Swan.

"I…"

Bloody hell, really? The giant too? Anton didn't even have the excuse of knowing he was a pirate! How bitterly ironic that Emma Swan, who had been the betrayer, was the one to gain the giant's trust when Hook had been honest (thus far).

"Anton," he pressed, trying to keep the impatience from wearing thin on his voice.

"You want to leave," the giant said, looking disappointed and betrayed himself.

"It's not that I haven't enjoyed your company," which was true, "but I have a job to do. You can understand that, can't you? And if you're worried about Emma, have no fear. I do not intend to harm her," _much,_ he added in his head.

"You promise not to hurt her?"

"I promise. In fact, I'll give you a token of my friendship, in exchange for something of yours. Something for a new hope."

He stamped down his conscience at Anton's bright eyes. "You can have whatever you like from the treasures," the giant said.

His inner pirate was tempted, so tempted, but gold was not what he needed. "No," he said gently, "it must be something on you. A keepsake. And especially if it makes you feel sad, or nostalgic." Hook pulled out a chain from his neck, it was a conquest from the first wench he'd bedded after Milah, after Neverland, _(a reminder, never again, to never try again to fill a void that could never be filled)_, and held no true sentimental value except to remind him of what a bastard he was. More importantly however, the act of removing a necklace made Anton look down to his adornments.

"It was a gift from my father," he lied. He held the chain out, and knew, as the giant wrenched off the shriveled bean, that he'd successfully manipulated the giant into giving him exactly what he needed, while keeping him in his good graces.

"This was a reminder of mine," the giant said sadly, "but it's totally useless. Just a reminder of what could have been." Hook didn't push for the sapling, the one with true use, but as he'd kept his options open in the form of Anton's friendship, he now had a bargaining chip with Cora because gods knew she wasn't exactly known for her even temperament, and coming up here without her would not render him in her good graces.

"Thank you," he said graciously. "I _will _see you again, Anton," he promised, finding himself oddly somber that he had used the giant.

"Goodbye, Killian, thank you for being my friend," Anton said, as he walked him towards the beanstalk. He ignored the punch to his gut, the reminder of how _Killian _would never be such a manipulative bastard, but he was Captain Hook and being a manipulative bastard was all he knew. Had been for three centuries.

With a final salute to the giant, Hook began his descend.


	3. Into The Deep

**Once Upon A Time, Into The Deep (2x08)**

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As Hook exited the little dungeon, he couldn't help but feel a supreme sense of smugness. As far as plotting had gone in the past, he hadn't been the most successful of pirates. He'd had many a success on open seas, navigating difficult waters and even more difficult foes, but the politics of dry land had proven far more elusive to his understanding than he'd bargained for.

And yet now, he stood at the brink of success. The princesses believed that if nothing else, that'd he was sincere in freeing Aurora, and thus would not be so quick to discount him out of their plans. He had secured Cora back into his quarter (for now) with a gift of Aurora's heart, something which he was determined not to think about.

Whichever way the wind blew, he was on its tide, poised for success. Rumplestiltskin would pay for his crimes and he would do so with his life-blood running down the very hook he'd created. Hook had dreamed many a night of watching the ruby red blood of the crocodile run down his hook, into his sleeves as the wretched beast convulsed, gagging on his last breaths and hopefully a lifetime of regret for his lost (murdered) wife and his lost (abandoned) son. Because _he _hadn't gone a day where he hasn't remembered that fateful day when Milah died in his arms, hasn't had a night's rest where her dying _I love you_ has lulled him to sleep like a nightmare-lullaby, his own personal brand of drug and salve.

But even as he tried valiantly not to allow his mind to rest on the fact that he'd just taken a heart, he couldn't help but feel a horrible sense of revulsion. He had done to a woman the same thing that had put him on this path of revenge in the first place. He had never claimed to be a good man, his heart is black and dark, corrupted by years of hatred and anger, of ruthlessness and pillaging, working for one madman after another, all so he can fulfill his life purpose. And yet, never, not even once working for Peter bloody Pan, has he stooped so low as to take a heart_. A heart_.

Now that he's done it, he can bask in the true horror of his actions, and Hook thinks that there is no atoning for his past sins, nor does he feel a strong need to embark on what would be a suicidal mission doing so, but perhaps if circumstances allow, that he might try to convince Cora to allow the girl her heart after they've secured their victory to this fabled land without magic.

It weighs on him even after Cora exits the dungeon, smiling that horrible smile (Hook's always admired pretty things, and Cora is everything short of ghastly) that sets his teeth on edge. It doesn't matter after all; she's just a means to an end. They all are.

"Where to, my lady?"

"Rumplestiltskin's cell," she replies, clearly enjoying his look of disgust at the mention of the crocodile's name. She offers him her arm, and Hook braces himself for that swirl of purple cloud that's sure to transport them to their new destination. He hates Cora's favourite mode of transportation.

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_A/N - A relatively short chapter that sets up Hook's wonderfully angsty speech at the cell. Enjoy! _


	4. Queen of Hearts

**Once Upon A Time, Queen of Hearts (2x09)**

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Hook opened his eyes and found himself sprawled on the dusty sand-bed of Lake Nostos. All at once, the events of the day rushed back to him in a tidal wave that made him grit his teeth as he gingerly brought his hand up to his cheek. The thing was, despite the bruise forming on his face, everything had gone perfectly as planned. Too perfectly perhaps – he'd only meant to feign being knocked down, but Emma Swan had not held back an ounce of strength as she had struck him. He'd tried valiantly not to hurt her, a long-forgotten part of him staying his hand in the swordfight – if it could even be called that, the woman barely knew how to wield the damn thing. And in return for his restraint, she'd clocked him on the face. If he ever saw Emma Swan again, it would be too soon.

It _had_ been a long shot; it was madness, but the second Cora had restored the waters of the lake, the moment the compass had flew from his hand when Snow's arrow hit it, he'd known what he needed to do. It's not like he hadn't already prepared for the eventuality; even locked in a supposedly inescapable cell, he hadn't doubted their tenacity. Now he was most certainly glad for it – Swan would be reunited with her son, Cora with her daughter, and Hook with his crocodile, hopefully a much more dead version of the crocodile.

As he stood, dusting his jacket and making his way to Cora who looked more dejected than he'd ever seen her, Hook sighed. He stopped next to the woman, a woman who was more alike and so unlike the ones that had just escaped their grasp – both wanting only to return to their children, their families.

"We failed," she said, looking out into the swirling water.

Hook sighed again, but this time he relished in the fact that he _finally _had the upper hand, the solution. That he had somehow managed to do both- the right thing and his own agenda.

"Really Cora? After all this time, why do you still doubt me?"

He held Anton's bean up, the string the giant had tied it to still attached. Cora however, did not seem to share his outlook about this development. She stared at the bean for a moment, meeting his gaze with trace amounts of disdain.

"That bean's petrified; it's useless."

The words were familiar; hadn't he just told Emma Swan the same thing, all those hours ago in Rumplestiltskin's cell? It was a terrible thing to say to a person, especially since he'd known she had probably felt that way her whole life (she had never said, but there was a deep seated confidence in his soul that just _knew_) but he had _meant_ to hurt her, the way she'd hurt him. He had practiced that speech as they had waited for the princessess, had thought that leaving them (her) there would give him the sense of satisfaction but the light that had left her eyes at his words had been gnawing against a long-lost conscience; he had regretted that feeling the moment he had walked away from the cell.

Hook rid himself of those musings as his eyebrows rose; was the witch really that dejected that her mind was clouded to not see the solution presented right in front of them?

"But this water has regenerative properties," he reminded her, twirling the bean as he added cheekily, "perhaps its time to do some gardening."

"Well then, what are we waiting for, Captain?" she said, indicating that he get on with the portal.

But Hook had already formulated a plan – he had always been the kind of man to have ten haphazard plans than one perfect one – it had worked in his favor as a pirate where situations changed at the drop of a hat, and it did so now.

"Not yet," he said, wrapping his fingers tightly around the bean.

Cora turned to face him, hands twitching as she considered him. Hook saw the challenge in her eyes, her patience thinning as she waited for him to elucidate on the plan she was clearly depending on him for.

He smirked, taking a step closer to her. "Why take a bean, when you can have a whole field full?"

"Enough of your games, Hook, say what it is you mean," Cora snapped.

"The giant atop the beanstalk has a sapling with him," he said, trailing off, leaving the sentence open to suggestion.

"Why didn't you steal it off him then?" she asked harshly, clearly annoyed.

Hook raised an eyebrow, "I never would have taken you for someone with green fingers, love."

"Don't be stupid Hook, anyone can grow a bean."

"Not if it's a magical bean. We need the giant. Alive," he said, pushing his tongue against his cheek, thankful he hadn't slipped up and said Anton's name. There was no need for Cora to know more than she had, especially not since he had the elusive upper hand for the moment.

"Very well, let's go then," Cora said, bringing her arm up and Hook held it tightly, stopping her from transporting them to the base of the beanstalk.

"After the giant, we get to Storybrooke on _my ship," _he said, in a tone that brooked no argument.

"My my, aren't we demanding," Cora drawled, but she nodded her head at him in what he had come to recognize was her way of acquiescing.

The entire excursion was much faster this time around than it had been with Swan, mostly because they knew exactly where to find what they were looking for, and mostly because Cora used her magic the way an alcoholic might consume. Either way, before he had too much time to think about the entire day (had it really only been two hours since the little skirmish by the lake?), Hook and Cora were aboard the Jolly, ready for their voyage.

"Neither one of us has ever been to this Storybrooke," he cautioned, holding the bean up to the dwindling sunlight.

"That was what the compass was supposed to be for," Cora said, clearly still holding the loss of the compass against him.

"Luckily, I have something else that might serve in its stead," she continued, pulling from her robe a petrified black rose.

Hook eyed it warily, wondering what kind of magical item this was, before realizing with a jolt that he'd seen her hold that rose in a similar position before. It was the rose Regina had placed in her coffin all those years ago.

"A powerful talisman indeed," he remarked, handing the bean to Cora. She didn't say a word as she turned her back to him and threw the bean into the water, forcing Hook into action as he steered the helm towards the growing portal.

"To the land without magic it is!" he said, bracing himself.


End file.
